SIMI
by guesswhatimahomestuck
Summary: This story takes place after the game has been won and the universe restarted. All Sburb/Sgrub players have been changed into humans and set into earth's timeline. No one remembers anything. No one except John. And he is dubbed mentally ill for it. However, he's not the only one stuck in the asylum, Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane. Welcome to SIMI.
1. Prologue

Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane

-Prologue-

A thin film of red rust clouds the gray of the pipes that connect the sink to the wall, their leaking cracks permitting passage to small drops of water that plink noisily onto the concrete floor. The air was muddied with the harsh scents of antiseptic, sharp cleaning detergent and thick body odor, but you've been here too long to really notice the smell anymore. The only light provided is from three fluorescent rectangles that ride low on the ceiling and flicker every five seconds. It's only a matter of minutes before one sputters and dies out.

You're not worried about it, though. The only things you can see are shadows and slightly whiter shadows; they'd blindfolded you ages ago.

HoNk

Even though you can't see currently, the layout of your room is burned into your memory, being one of the only ones you have. The whole of it was about as big as a shed, if that. The pocket-sized bed crouches low to the ground with a thin mattress and sheets riddled with holes. The toilet's bowl tilts downwards at an awkward angle and there was nothing to wipe your ass with -even if you could wipe on your own. And finally there was the sink, which had been seeping for who knows how long now. It was all cramped and smushed together like a toddler had thrown his toys into a basket at random.

Your feet are planted in the middle of the floor and you stand unsteadily over them, swaying slightly as your weight shifts from foot to foot. You face the only entrance and exit to your room, a bland metal door. Why are you just standing there? You don't know. Don't really care to know. The floor is cold under your bare feet and your arms twitch from inside your straight jacket.

honk

_This is stupid. None of that information actually fucking matters. Are you just going to stand there and wait for them to come and torture you some more? They'll motherfucking kill you! Think, dumbass!_

_You should be figuring out ways to escape and take down anyone who tries to stop you. Mercy is for the weak. Wait for the mother fuckers to come and then jump them before they even suspect it! Arm yourself! ...Rip off the toilet seat and use it as a club against the lab coats... Or tear off a piece of that pipe... No, the one under the other sink in here. Yes that motherfucking sink, idiot! Use your teeth if you have to!_

_...That's it. There you go. Now we wait for the lab coats to come in with their syringes. But we'll be ready. We'll escape and-_

HONK

The voice vacates your mind as abruptly as it had trespassed, and the room suddenly feels deathly silent without it. It takes a moment, but you soon notice a metallic taste mixing with the saliva coating your tongue. Your eyebrows pull together beneath the cloth as you absentmindedly wonder why that taste was suddenly there.

You open your mouth experimentally and a wickedly sharp edge tears a shallow slit across your tongue as the scrap falls out. The piece of metal plummets and pings against the ground a few times before going silent. The bitter, coppery taste of blood left behind isn't exactly foreign to your mouth, but you find that not expecting it is a bit irritating. Like a fly in your periphery that is uncharacteristically careful to never venture too closely into your direct line of sight.

You are soon distracted from your palate as something cold and wet tickles at the tips of your toes. You cock your head to the side, ears picking up the sound of quick-trickling water. Eventually, the cool liquid pools around your feet and you shuffle around a bit, entertained by the splashes your movement causes.

Sooner or later you come to a standstill again and contemplate as to why the pipes were leaking so badly all of a sudden. However, you don't have very long to dwell on it before something else sparks your short attention span. Only this time, it was actually with good reason.

Metal screeches against metal as the deadbolt lock to your room is pulled away from the doorjamb. You instinctively tense up and look straight ahead even though all you can see are the dark figures of the people entering. They walk in without a word directed at you, their voices cheerful and laughing, as though they had merely entered a restaurant to eat lunch. The only things that would have given them away were the nurse's scrubs they donned and the open white lab coats covering their shoulders. Even if you currently couldn't see them, you knew their uniform from many past encounters.

Their footsteps are sloshy and you can tell by their sudden change in tone that they had noticed, and are agitated by the water covering the floor. Their voices are hushed, but irritated and you can't make out what they're saying. Not that you're really trying to anyway. You'd stopped listening for your own sanity.

The two lab coats fall silent and one of them moves behind you. You feel their fingers begin undoing the knot tied at the back of your head. Mutely, you remain standing still, not feeling the immediate need to react. The linen slips away and the sudden light change makes your pupils constrict violently. However, you don't flinch away. Your eyelids lazily fall halfway over your eyes and a distant, dreamy expression dances across your face; as though you had become content.

The voice starts to pester you from the recesses of your mind and the corners of your lips tug downwards. It's a buzzing hum that you can't understand. It confuses you, and you try to block it out with other distractions. Your gaze moves ever so slightly to look at the people in your room.

One of the lab coats is a woman, you notice. She's the one in front of you, running her hands over your neck, shoulders and torso as though she were checking for something. Long black hair swishes and teal eyes flash with concern as she finally peers at your face. You ponder why she was looking at you like that and tilt your head to the side.

The girl's eyes meet yours and their blue-green hues widen a smidge, as though she was surprised by your reaction. She hesitates, opening her mouth slightly, before saying something over your shoulder to the lab coat that had given your sight back. She gives you a long look before her hands leave your shoulders to trail down your forcibly crossed arms.

Her fingers lock around your wrists through the fabric of your straight jacket. The woman's hands are small and warm, but had a grip of iron. The pressure sparks a hint of annoyance that clenches in your gut. A few seconds of tugging here and unbuckling there and you feel the casing come loose.

_You mother fucking moron! Now's-_ You frown again. The voice is becoming a real inconvenience now. Though, its frustration was slowly trickling into your current emotions. Concentration was getting harder to come by. Why are you just standing here again? You don't like how this girl's holding your arms in place... Shouldn't you be doing something? Maybe? Yes? No?

The woman lab coat lets go of your wrists, sliding the straight jacket off of your arms in the process. Your newly-freed limbs fall limply to your sides and you notice how weird it feels to be mobile with them again. The pajama sleeves still encasing your arms flap around uselessly, creases randomly decorating the fabric from being held in place for so long.

The girl quickly hands the straight jacket to the person behind you and then returns to looking you over. Now the woman's hands are massaging and prodding at your appendages. You find it kind of bothersome yet amusing at the same time. Contradictive, but you always are.

The voice is shrieking at you with muffled words now and something it says actually registers in your thoughts. You could make out the words "pipe" and "motherfucker," and that was all; that was enough to draw your attention away from the keepers. Your head slowly turns and tilts downwards. Sure enough, it was right where you'd left it.

The two people spoke very little while the woman finished her examination, and you realize how tense the atmosphere had become in the few minutes the intruders had been in your room. You dwell on it for a few seconds before the train of thought disappears on its own again. That tends to happen to you, in case you hadn't noticed.

A few more pats later and the lab coat was done. She averts her gaze from yours and you furrow your eyebrows, confused at her behavior. The lab coats hardly ever reacted to you, and she had been doing a lot of reacting in the past ten minutes. You decided that it was like she felt guilty for some reason. The girl looks over your shoulder and keeps a soft grasp on your right forearm. She says something to the lab coat behind you.

The next few moments happen very quickly.

A sharp pain shoots across your elbow as your left arm is yanked backward and pinned behind you. Surprised, you involuntarily bend at the waist and stumble forward, but the person's other arm wraps around your torso to hold you upright.

You barely have time to react, when you notice that the girl is wiping some strong smelling anti-bacterial in the crook of your free elbow. Her gaze is on your arm and her fingers grip at your skin uncomfortably. Your eyes widen. She reaches into the side pocket of her lab coat and the hand returns with something cylindrical and shiny and sharp-looking and holy shit she's pointing it at you-

The voice refused to be ignored anymore.

_You motherfucking idiot! They're going to stick you with that thing! Move! Movemovemove!_

Your body responds immediately while your brain is a bit slower on the uptake. Before you know it, you've yanked both arms free and have lunged for the piece of pipe lying on the wet floor. The entire front of your body gets soaked through your pajamas and half of you wishes you hadn't sprung that leak in the first place. The other half makes your right hand shoot out and close around the six inch triangle of torn metal.

_Get up, imbecile!_

Obediently, you leap to your feet and face your keepers, who were also staggering upright from your sudden outburst. The rough edges of steel cut into the skin of your palm and a second liquid mixes with the water dripping from the metal's tip.

_Get them!_

Your fingers tighten further around your small but sufficient weapon. A tiny part of you is uneasy, but its voice is drowned out by the angry booming in your ears that might have been your pulse or the voice humming to you. You couldn't really tell. Meanwhile, the lab coats are turning to face you, shock on their faces and their mounting fear making the air thicker.

_Kill them!_

You feel your face split open into an expression that you've never made before; and realize that it must have been called "grinning." A sort ofvague excitement makes your dead eyes light up and you bare your teeth at the lab coats. Your gaze locks onto the syringe still grasped in the female lab coat's hand.

_Kill them before they motherfucking kill you!_

Not that you even needed that stupid excuse.

You walk towards them.

* * *

><p>Go down to the end of the hall, turn right and the third door on the left is where you'll find a safe haven. A room totally oblivious to the shocked screams and loud crashes coming from just up the corridor. A room completely separated from the rushed footsteps and desperate bangings on a door that should not have been locked but was. A room belonging to a boy with nothing but a bed, a blanket and five hours left of sleeping to do.<p>

Soft, incoherent murmurings and little huffs of air escape from his slightly parted lips, the only sounds to contrast the chaos outside. His face is relaxed and peaceful as he turns onto his side, dragging the thin blanket in his wake. The bed creaks in protest, but like the noises from a different universe, it does not rouse him from his slumber.

If he'd been awake, you would have had a perfect view of the bluest sapphires ever mined from the earth, both set like crown jewels on either side of his nose. They would be bright and excited pools that held a dark depth to them if you only looked close enough. An unruly shock of black hair frames his face and static from the bed makes it stick up in all directions.

He would have looked just like a normal boy, going to bed at the proper time in order to get up for school in the morning. He would have attended normal classes with normal teachers and normal friends. He would return to a normal household and sleep once again in a normal bed.

However, he was not a normal boy. His gray flannel pajamas and nylon straight jacket spoke words of their own. Not to mention the likes of his neighbors, or his current drug-induced siesta.

Normal boys dream of flying through the clouds and bending the wind to their every whim, no matter how trivial. They dream of playing games with friends and being powerful enough to defeat monsters five times their size. They dream of meeting weird aliens and happily exploring the unknown with caution thrown to the wind.

And yes, this boy dreamed of such things as well.

Only, he actually believed in them.


	2. Chapter 1

Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane

-Chapter 1-

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are not happy to be here.

You're currently sitting on a black leather chair in an immense lobby. About twenty other people you do not know sit with you in the rows of chairs that face an empty receptionist's desk, and you have already pegged each person in here an idiot worthy of hell, excluding your two "friends." AKA, the people who forced you to be here in the first place; They're only worthy of temporary damnation.

Kanaya Maryam sits to your right, and on the other side of her is Aradia Megido. You're all here for the same purpose, just with completely different attitudes about it.

For example, we'll start with a quote for yourself. "The worst thing about not wanting to do something is that you usually end up having to do it anyway." And signing up for a three-day trial to work at an insane asylum definitely fit under the list of things you did not want to do. Frankly, you weren't even legally qualified to work here. You'd minored in nursing technique and basic medical training, but you're pretty sure that doesn't give you legal rights or permission to treat mental people. But apparently this place, Skaian Mental Hospital or whatever, was getting pretty desperate since the ad –which Kanaya had found- stated that any medical or nursing experience would be accepted for the trial. Your diplomas unfortunately landed you in both of those categories.

A little background check before we move on? Why the fuck not.

Kanaya had been in both your nursing and medical classes, so the fact that she let you borrow her neat and legible notes rather than letting you squint through your own left-handed chicken scratch made her one of the few people that didn't drive you up the fucking wall. That only happens about once a month with her, rather than all the time. During school she'd had long hair that was a mix of caramel and blonde, but recently, she'd chopped it off to jaw-length and dyed it almond brown. Today she was wearing a pair of green scrubs that matched her eyes and had "improved it" –as she would say- in adding a black belt and watch, with a thin silver choker.

Aradia on the other hand, you did not meet inside any of your classes during school. You'd met her through Kanaya at lunch break one day and you'd decided that she wasn't an insufferable asshole either. Kanaya liked her and they probably hung out a lot more often than you did with either of them, but you didn't really mind since you just liked having another person to rant to whenever Kanaya's not available. And let's just put it out there right now- You do a lot of ranting.

Anyway, as far as Aradia goes, she's kind of bipolar in your opinion. One minute she'd talk less than a rock and the next she was a living, breathing ball of joy. Her hair had stayed the same- if not gotten longer than its already lion's mane length- and was a bright shade of orange to go along with the light spray of freckles across her pale skin. You used to make constant finger jokes in her presence, but after a brief -and mortifying- beat down, you'd learned to shut your trap. Megido's scrubs were a dark burgundy red with tan bottoms, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

You kind of stand out against your friends, when you take it into consideration. Both were a few inches taller than you and a lot more "happy-looking" -for lack of a better word. Sometimes you slouched when you walked, making you seem even shorter and your shaggy black hair almost always fell forward in front of your dark brown eyes, making your trademark scowl extensively off-putting. You weren't as pale as Aradia, but Kanaya was a few shades darker and would have looked a lot better wearing the red scrub top you'd slipped into this morning. A fact about pretty much anything you wore. Excluding boxers.

Wait, scratch that. She'd probably still look better than you in boxers.

And no, not in that kind of way. Sick bastards.

Moving on.

You had gone to school for a load of reasons. As unlikely as it seems with your attitude, you want to help heal people and work with the injured to make them better. That's not a bad reason right? The stuff they taught at Prospit University was pretty interesting and didn't make you fall asleep in class, even if you had to study your ass off in order to actually understand the concept. Plus, it's not like you didn't have the adequate money factor in mind when you went to school for a high-end job. And as it turned out, the money ended up being a necessary component. You should know, medical bills are extremely high.

This brings us back to the fact that even though you truly don't want to be here, reason and logic make it painfully obvious that you need the job. So you guess you're just about as desperate as the mental institute.

You hadn't bothered reading over the actual ad yourself, but Kanaya had told you that some of the staff was hospitalized when a patient went apeshit and now the facility needs more people in order to fill in for the temporarily lost members. And at this point in the conversation, the woman started vouching for you to go with her and Aradia, making it obvious that they'd already talked it over and were going to the trial.

You'd immediately said no.

And yet, somehow, an application with your name on it had found its way into the mail and a packed bag had found itself in your trunk and on a three hour car ride to a mental hospital. Funny how that kind of stuff works.

You let out a long sigh and try to clear your head of all the reminiscing the past couple minutes contained. It'll just piss you off more than you already are and more than what is a daily quantity for you. What can you say? There's a lot of fucked up shit in this world. Like commercials that are five fucking hours long in between your romcoms. Or how some people can be just complete idiots about the simplest tasks. Or how a sweet, innocent little girl can't lead a normal life because she's diagnosed with-

"Hello." A feminine voice cuts through your thoughts, and your head -in unison with everyone else's- looks up sharply towards it.

"I'm sure all of you are fully aware as to why you are currently present, so we will not waste valuable time with a lengthy introduction speech of the valor and grandness that is this facility." A short haired, blonde girl wearing lavender scrubs stood in front of all the people here and held an official looking clipboard with papers on it. She looked pretty average save for her abnormally purple eyes and the long white lab coat across her shoulders. You detected a small note of sarcasm lacing her last statement and raised an eyebrow in surprise. Dissing her own job. Okay.

She wasn't alone though. On her right stood a tall guy in all red scrubs, wearing a similar lab coat and a cast all the way up his right arm. A nasty bruise peeked out from under the collar of his shirt, creeping up his pale neck. Your stomach gives a slight lurch as you silently give a guess as to how he got those injuries, but you don't think he'd appreciate your asking. Nor would the first girl appreciate your interrupting, at that.

"My name is Rose Lalonde." The woman in lavender continued. "I am the third ranked head therapist here at the Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane and I will be the lead supervisor during your trial here. This is Kankri Valdeman-" She pointed to the guy with the cast- "He is ranked fourth head therapist and will be assisting me in the supervision of your prowess." You think you see a slight smirk quirk the corner of her mouth upward but she continues before you can make sure. "And this is our current receptionist, Jade Harley. She reviewed all of your applications and deemed the presents' acceptable for this trial." Your gaze follows Rose's gesture towards the girl on her left as you finally notice her.

She was also taller than the head therapist- but that fact didn't make Rose's vibe any less intimidating- and had long black hair. Jade was pretty much the only normally dressed person in the room, wearing a white skirt and a blue patterned shirt. Two emerald-green eyes peered out from behind circular wire-rimmed glasses.

"Now." Rose glanced down at her clipboard before flipping it sideways and resting it against her hips. "You should all already know why this trial is being conducted in the first place. We made sure to make it painfully obvious in our advertisement that some of our staff members were severely injured during an episode of one of our patients. I will not be untruthful. He is still present in the facility and Kankri here is proof of the danger within these walls."

It took you a moment to notice, but the room had fallen completely silent and a bit tense. You watched as Kankri shifted uncomfortably at the looks he was probably receiving from the crowd of twenty. Glancing around swiftly, you realize that some people must have either assumed that the culprit was put down, moved to a different hospital, or they didn't even read that section of the ad. Kind of like you would have been, if you hadn't had Kanaya to tell you about it. There were a lot of wide eyes and tense shoulders.

"Makara has been sedated and moved into a room further away from the rest of the patients and living quarters. You will not be required to handle him or-"

"Whoa wait, that guy is still here?" Somebody had belatedly found their voice and interrupted Lalonde. You glanced back, noting his unique accent and the weird tattoo on his forehead near the temple. It looked like some star sign or something. "I didn't sign up for any shit like that." A few people were nodding nervously with him.

Rose locked gazes with the person who spoke. "No, I suppose you didn't. You filled out the application and came all the way here just for the amusement and free dinner, correct?" Now you were positive she was being sarcastic. She quirked an eyebrow skyward. "Now, Mr.-" Rose flipped a paper over on her clip board. "Cronus Anderson. I leave the door open for your exit. And anyone who wishes to follow him, please gather your things and proceed. I assure you, your assistance will not be needed if you are frightened."

"Holy shit." You mutter under your breath and glance around at all the other stalk-still people in their seats. This broad is scary. And like hell you're gonna be the first to move, b you're not an idiot; the second a person gets up you're-

You'd just looked over at Aradia and Kanaya at that moment. Aradia didn't look too happy about Rose's speech. Her mouth was set into a thin line and she wasn't gazing around like you were. But the thing that stopped your train of thought was the look on Kanaya's face. You'd kind of expected her to look just as mad as Megido, seeing as she hated conflict and was usually the one to break stuff up. However, her jade green gaze was locked on Lalonde with a look of... admiration? What?

You open your mouth to question her about it but Rose's voice interrupts before you can. "Well. It appears that all of you are serious about this." No one had moved for the door. "I say we get the tour started and then you may meet the patients." She turned on her heel and headed for a door to the right of the receptionist desk. Err, Jade's desk you guess.

"You are permitted to leave your luggage in their places while assistance will be sent to take your personal items to your quarters. They will be handled with careens fragility, and will not be damaged we can assure you. Now please follow us." Kankri called out to the large group as you all rose from your seats. One thing the therapists apparently have in common? Vocabulary.

And so you all went on the tour.

The facility was larger on the inside than it looked from the out. Rose and Kankri led the tour group through a few antiseptic-scented hallways and pointed out a couple vacant patient rooms; some that Rose said had occupants but were empty at the time; and the patient's restrooms. Some of the rooms varied in their structure, with a few being larger than others and some had toilets and sinks inside them. Still others had bunks or cots, or no bed at all.

All the floors were white tile with gray walls and rectangular fluorescent lights decorating the ceiling. You gaze up at them about an hour into the tour where Rose was finally wrapping up the "normal patients" residences, when the whole group stopped in front of a big double door that had three deadbolts running in between their cracks at two feet intervals. You feel yourself raising an eyebrow and glance over at Kanaya and Aradia. The latter simply gives a short shrug while the former motions for you to listen up front.

"Here is Sector Three and for the full duration of your residence here, none of you are to touch this door or ask a staff member to grant access to you. Under no circumstances will they oblige, no matter how tempting your excuse." She gave the crowd a small smile. "Just providing you all fair warning." Even though Lalonde was smirking like she knew a dirty secret, you could tell she was serious.

_Telling us so mysteriously like that was a really dumbass move. Now everyone will want to go in there._

You find yourself wondering what-

"I wonder what could lie beyond those doors." A girl's small voice spoke behind you, catching you off-guard so that your shoulder's gave a little jump -even though you immediately assumed the speaker to be as tiny as her tone. Turning to face the speaker, however, you quickly realize that using the word 'small' to describe anything about this woman would be an oxymoron.

She towered over you. Like empire state building versus a dog house towered. Her hair was blonde and super short so that -combined with the muscular and big structure of her body- it would have been easy to mistake her for a male. But her eyes, a viridian green, were too soft and feminine for that. She wore yellow scrubs that set off her olive skin.

You hurriedly compose yourself after the initial shock and open your mouth to say something in reply to her comment, but you get interrupted by a loud, girly call.

"Callllllieeeeee!" Another blonde girl appeared beside the first female and threw an arm across the larger girls shoulder, having to reach on her tiptoes to do so. The larger, Callie you assumed, was as thick as the second girl was skinny, but they were similar in a sun-kissed complexion. Callie's friend however, had hazel eyes that looked more rosy than a chocolate shade. Her scrubs were bright bubblegum pink and purple.

Callie winces at the girl's rambunctious actions but a small smile touches the tips of her lips. -Dammit. You used small again.- The pink eyed girl glances over at you as though just noticing your presence and her demeanor turns hostile. Her gaze narrows and she juts a hip out to the side with a hand on it, which seemed quite a feat with half of her body having to lean on Callie in order to reach high enough to her. It was obvious she'd been about to tell Her companion something or another but she'd changed her mind upon seeing you. "Cal, this guy being a dick or something?"

...

Okay, you admit it. You're not the most friendly looking kid at the playground, but when someone insults you in the first five seconds of meeting, you're bound to get pissed.

"No, I wasn't doing or saying shit to Callie or whoever the fuck she is, but since you asked, I'll put my two cents in. Callie was over here actually paying attention to the tour but you apparently have your head shoved so far up your ass that you'd mistake elephants doing anal for your grandma asking you to get the mail." Your arms cross defiantly over your chest and you glare at the pair.

Callie's eyes widened and she took a half step back, making your guilty conscience rear its ugly head.

_Way to go, you probably scared the shit out of the girl. But who would have guessed someone with her looks would be such a marshmallow?_

The other female however, had a completely different reaction. She paused with a frown plastered on her face that quickly cracked like she couldn't hold the straight face for even a second. Laughter bubbled out of her mouth and you were scared to look behind you and check to see if everyone else had started staring.

"I was just teasing but hell if that wasn't totes the best comeback ever!" More laughing. "I'm Roxy by the way, and this is my BFF Calliope!" She grinned almost maniacally, her attitude 180-ing so fast you couldn't tell if she was being legit or not. You're pretty sure your jaw had gone slack for a few seconds there.

_This chick didn't even bat an eye. Is she insane? Or just really high to let that one fly right over her head?_

You snap your jaw shut and narrow your eyes at her in suspicion. Reluctantly, you reach out and shake Roxy's hand before glancing over at Calliope. She wasn't even surprised at the little episode that just occurred, even if she seemed a little flustered still from your initial statement. Roxy's side of the conversation must be a common occurrence.

You cautiously return their pleasantries, "It's Kar-"

"Karkat!"

Goddammit. Is this just everybody interrupt Karkat day?

You glance over and see Kanaya's stern motherly glare coming at you in full swing. The three of you had fallen behind and Kanaya probably thought you were stalling on purpose. A little fucking faith please.

You scowl at her and shove your hands into the deep pockets of your scrub bottoms, not even bothering to glance back at the giggle that sounded behind you. One guess who it is.

Roxy grins at you and grabs Calliope by the hand, who was giving you an apologetic look even though you'd just insulted her friend. Whatever. They're both crazy. You shake your head and begrudgingly plod along after the crowd with Roxy dragging Calliope in pursuit.

You keep liking this place less and less.

Your scowl deepens as another hour passes and all the hallways start looking exactly the same. You wondered if a map would be supplied or if you could take a few minutes to exercise your horrendous art skills draw one out. Rose had already shown the group all the keepers and therapists rooms and their respective bathrooms, but you'd failed to see even one patient yet. Were there even any actual insane people here other than the crowd you've been with for the past couple hours? You honestly wouldn't put it past these guys if this was just a big prank to waste your time.

You pull to a halt along with the tour as Rose turns a 180 to face everybody. Another set of double doors rises behind her, but the lack of locks makes it seem just a little bit more inviting than "Sector Three."

"Now, as any basic intellect would have noticed, the normal everyday activities of our patients was altered especially for today." Rose glances around at each of you and you cross your arms over your chest, already tired of her talking.

"The purpose for that is to make patient assignment an efficient and quick process, without having to consult everyone individually. Different patients will be stationed about the room, and it is of your own judgement whom you decide to speak to." Rose unclips a thick stack of paper from her board and hands it to Jade, who begins passing the packets of papers out to everyone. "Here is a packet with brief files on each of the patients. We encourage you to read over them before proceeding."

"This situation," Kankri stepped forward and picked up where Rose left off. "Is unprecedented in this facility and we ask you to continue the trial with the utmost caution and empathy to the high levels of stress and change these subj- people are under. There are many triggers to watch out for and you must be careful not to set anyone off. Triggers include but are not limited to: inquiring about their past, asking how long they have been here, what their diagnosis is, what- " Kankri looked like he wanted to say more, but Rose shot him a quick look that probably translated to "shut the fuck up." At least, that's what you would have said to him.

"Anyway, we hope you enjoy your time here at Skaia, seeing as this little test will weed out the boys from the men." She stated, a smirk playing on her lips.

You roll your eyes, feeling safe to do so since you were towards the back of the trial-ees. A packet of paper finds its way into your hand and on the first page is a picture of a boy with black hair and blue eyes. You glance over his file, recognizing the words hallucination and mania, but losing interest due to lack of interest in the packet in the first place. You don't plan on making friends, you just want the job, so this whole interview thing is kinda rubbing you the wrong way. The pages flip aimlessly in your hands as you try to appear busy and like you're actually doing something.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Kanaya and Aradia with their heads bent together and pointing at the packet, apparently deciding which patient to talk to first. Their whispers are lost to your ears and you growl lowly at the back of your throat. Just like them to drag you all the way out here and then shove you off to the side. Your attitude about meeting new people suddenly switches, just to spite them. You'll find some asylum-trapped best friend to hang out with.

"Alright." Rose places a hand on the knob of the door with her back leaning against its gray exterior. Everyone looks up from their papers and takes a subconscious step forward. Lalonde flashes you all a grin.

"Have fun." And then she opened the door.

* * *

><p>You were young.<p>

Thirteen?

Yes, thirteen.

Your name.. Your name was...?

John.

John, yeah that was it.

A game?

You all played a game?

What game?

Rose?

Dave?

Jade?

They were all there?

Trolls?

What trolls?

K- Kra... Kar...?


	3. Chapter 2

Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane

-Chapter 2-

Your name unfortunately is still Karkat Vantas, and you truly believe that the universe is out to get you. Like it wants to tie you to a stake and let you burn without even having the courtesy of officially sentencing you to hell. But frankly, you'd enjoy that more than this. You'd walk across glass shards or chug bleach. Anything's better than being forced to sit across from a lunatic that has personal space issues, a revolting shit-eating grin and fucked up eyes that-

Okay, okay, hold on. Shut up and breathe for a second. Let's back up a bit. Rewind about ten minutes so that everyone here can understand what the fuck you're talking about.

* * *

><p>"Have fun." Rose steps backwards through the door with a sarcastic little bow and then disappears into the room beyond. Seeing as you're towards the back of the pack, there isn't much to report on the room other than white walls and a tall ceiling littered with rectangular lights. So pretty much like every other room in this goddamn building. You allow your footsteps to slow, embracing the caboose and letting everyone else worry about being first. The sounds of people chatting and chairs being moved come from up front but this hardly requires acknowledgement on your part. You go out on a limb and guess that it's some type of interview process with random patients. You're not all that sure, though.<p>

"How about her? She doesn't seem too... dangerous..." A slightly familiar voice catches your attention and you cast a quick glance over your shoulder to the only two people loitering further back than yourself. But then you wish you hadn't. It's those weirdoes from earlier.

"Oh, come on Callie. None of them are really that scary. How about we go to the center of the room, spin around with our eyes closed and the first one we point to, we talk to?" Roxy has a smile as loud as her scrubs and she takes the packet from Calliope's hands, only to toss it dramatically over her shoulder.

"Oh dear..." Calliope's expression is a little less happy than her companion's as she shakes her head at the other's antics. But you see the faintest trace of a smile play on the bulky girl's lips. They must be close friends.

Close friends that annoy the ever loving fuck out of you, you mean.

You scowl even more than your usual daily look and turn back towards the crowd filing through the doorway. The volume from inside has increased and you absent-mindedly wonder how many total people there are. A few more moments pass and you notice that the doorway had finally cleared enough for you to elbow your way past the over-achievers staying behind to read all the profiles. Honestly, do they have to read every freaking word printed about these people? They could find out for themselves. The patients are right fucking there.

You shake your head to clear it of condescending thoughts and step through the doors. However, you detour to the left to take in your surroundings before jumping right into the shit pile.

The room is ginormous and vaguely resembles a cafeteria with all the tables scattered across the floor. It's a square shape with two doors on each side and at the back are three large rectangular holes in the wall with metal shutters closing them off. They have little counters poking out at the bottom of them, about three feet off the ground and you guess that they're supposed to be for serving food. Plays nicely with the cafeteria resemblance.

The ceiling is high with dull panels that match the gray tiling underfoot and the entire room smells like cleaner, telling you they'd tidied up for the trial. The whole of the room is bustling with people switching seats, some talking, and some just awkwardly glancing around. It's a lot louder than you expected it to be, but it wasn't anywhere near high school cafeteria level.

What seems off to you is that everything looks so normal. They all look like human beings. They've got faces and hair and arms and legs. Only a few minor details intrude on the normalcy of the forty something people here. Those details include: Straightjackets, handcuffs, ankle cuffs, and body harnesses that look suspiciously like they're holding their victims to their seats.

Nope. Nothing non-high school about that.

You push that train of thought out of your head, recognizing that there's nothing you can do about it even if you cared enough to. Glancing around, your eyes find Kanaya and Aradia, who're seated across from a scrawny looking Latino boy in a wheel chair. Aradia's leaning over the table and smiling, but Maryam looks like she's struggling to find the same enthusiasm.

You absently wonder where Rose and Kankri went, and after a bit of scanning, you spot a shock of blonde bobbing through the crowd. She pulls to a stop, and the male staff member she starts talking to is only slightly taller, with her same pale hair.

You peer at him and immediately start glowering. He's got this real unreadable, blank expression on his face and the look is only just perfected by the black aviators concealing his eyes. You take a not-so-wild guess of his personality and immediately dub him as an asshole. You've dealt with his kind before. The "I'm too cool to give a fuck about you or you or you etc..." and you hope you don't have to talk to him. Ever.

Pulling your gaze away, your eyes roam over onto a bright red scrub and you recognize Kankri. He's talking to that one guy who threw a bitch fit in the lobby earlier. You tilt your head. Cronos? Carlos? Hell if you know. They're sitting across from each other at a table without any other patients or straightjackets to be seen, and your brow furrows as you wonder why the special treatment. You shrug it off though, not finding the capability to give a fuck past that.

Continuing to try and identify faces, you see bright pink and immediately know where Roxy and Calliope are. They're sitting across from a black-haired boy with dark green eyes who's only got simple handcuffs holding his wrists together. Other than that the patient looks normal, even laughing and smiling at something Roxy just said. Your brows furrow at them.

... Didn't those two get into the room after you did? How long, exactly, have you been standing on the side just gawking around like an idiot?

You duck your head and swear. _Much longer than necessary_, you think sulkily. Way to go, shit-for-brains. You have exceeded a new level of self-loathing.

You growl curses under your breath and walk deeper into the room at a random direction just for the sake of looking productive. God, you don't want to be here. Almost everyone's already found a first day buddy and you've yet to say hi to even one lunatic here. Damn Kanaya and her stupid-

A vice-like grip unexpectedly latches onto your wrist and you are yanked to a halt, being jolted out of your thoughts in the process. Your mouth opens automatically to spew out a few swear words as you whirl around to face your assaulter.

"Fuck! What the-"

"Red! Oh, you smell delicious!" A high pitched voice coming from the girl holding your arm interrupts you, followed by a loud cackle that barely even qualifies as a laugh. More like a screech. She's grinning up at you with her lips stretching from ear to ear, probably even far enough to disappear into her bedraggled red auburn hairline. Her teal eyes have a film of clouds over them, but they seem to be smiling right along with her mouth.

"Get the hell off me!" You find your voice after quickly getting over your surprise and jerk your arm to get away, but her hold is vice-like. Your eyes narrow and you yank again, grabbing onto your bound arm with your free hand. The chains on her wrists ching at your movement and you notice that they're connecting her hands to her waist, with only about two feet of leeway in between.

"But I haven't scented something so decadent in ages!" She pouts melodramatically, sticking her bottom lip out and dragging you closer. Then, keeping her back straight, she brings your arm up to her nose and takes a deep inhale against the red of your sleeve.

"Well that's too fucking bad! Let go!" Your voice goes higher in mortification as you lean all of your weight away from this madcap, swearing at the heat of embarrassment skimming your face. Movement registers out of the corner of your eye, and you think that someone's coming towards the two of you. Great. A scene. Just great. But you thank the fucking Lord someone's going to get this loony's shit together.

"Hehehe!" She just continues to bring you closer, her neck craning up towards you. "More red! Oh you're wonderful. Perhaps I can..."

Holy shit. Six inches. Five going on four. Three.

You're about to start freaking the fuck out. You tense and hold your breath, still trying to release your wrist. This is way too close. Would that person hurry the fuck up? Please?

"Taste it?" Her voice is a whisper in your ear. Your eyes widen and you go rigid. Fuck.

And then she licks you.

Right up the side of your face and all over your cheek, complete with the totally unnecessary saliva and squishy noises that come with oral endeavors. Your face goes crimson and all the most hateful words in the dictionary get caught in your throat. Everything else turns to white noise except for the mad cackling she'd burst into.

Holy hell. That did not just happen. That did not just happen. Did that fucking just happen?

If you're honest with yourself, you were expecting a completely different action on her part. Especially since your faces had been so close together. Now, you're not sure if having her spittle coating half your face was much better of an outcome.

You're just barely rising above the tidal wave of humiliation when someone yanks the girl's hand away from your wrist and you're shoved backwards. None too gently at that. Staggering, you shake your head and say the first thing that comes to mind: "Fuck!"

"Nice one, shouty." A girl with deep brown eyes and two long braids appears in front of you, grinning at your outburst. "Troububble on the first day. I like you." She places her hands on your shoulders and steers you towards the chair across from the still crowing loon, before pushing you down into it. From over the table, you see a blonde guy wearing black angled shades wrestling with the screeching teal-eyed madcap. It's a different guy from the one Rose was talking to, but they look like they could be brothers from where you sit.

You find yourself glaring at your former assaulter. Her eyes are closed and you can see tears leaking out the corners. What's she finding so funny? Was that just a ginormous joke to her? Her sense of humor makes your blood boil with seething anger.

The girl who'd sat you down still has her hands on your shoulders, holding you there while the other guy works on taming the loon, but you can't see her from her stance behind you. It gives you a bad feeling that you're going to be stuck here. Even when the staff leaves.

It takes a moment, but the girl finally stops laughing her insane ass off, settling instead on grinning and giggling. No doubt still at your expense. Damn, you want to stick a sock down her esophagus.

The triangle-shaded guy's face is as impassive and bare as his possibly-brother's and you get the weird feeling he's looking at you while he straightens from dealing with the patient. You're tempted to tell him off for not getting her under control sooner, but you don't want to chance setting the crazy off again. The guy's unseen gaze apparently moves up to the girl holding your shoulders, because she starts talking to you.

"Alright, Mcshouty. Try not to make anenomemore scenes, kay? I'd have to snitch on you next time." You hardly register the fish pun in her speech as her hands leave your shoulders. Anime shade guy strides past you to join her and your jaw sets as you listen to their receding footsteps. All over and done within minutes, like a fucking every day ordeal. Your glare only heats up as the giggling across from you ebbs into silence.

This is where we catch back up to the present. You sitting there, fuming, while the girl on the other side of the table stews in blissful triumph at easily getting under your skin.

* * *

><p>"My name's Terezi." She bursts out after a moment of quiet passes between the two of you. Her ridiculous twittering has ceased, thank god, but you're pretty sure that the wide smile on her face will take a lot of raging and insults to waver.<p>

"... Karkat." You reply slowly, keeping a wary gaze on her and being hesitant on striking up a conversation. It looks like she's doing something with her hands beneath the table because her shoulders keep twitching and her head is ducked low... but her back seems unnaturally pin straight. Surely someone like her wouldn't be concerned with proper dinner posture? She's also wearing a simple gray long sleeved shirt, something you'd noticed all the patients wearing.

"Karkat. Katkar. Karkitten." Terezi tilts her head and her rust red unkempt hair swishes just above her shoulders. Her filmy teal eyes- wait... Fuck. Is she trying to give you a nickname? No. Hell no.

"Kar. Kardog. Karkles-"

"My name's Karkat, shit-for-brains. Use it or shut the fuck up." You snap heatedly at her, cutting her off and frowning at the smile she immediately pulls out of her ass and glues onto her face.

"Karkles." Terezi snickers and nods her head in approval. You immediately face palm and drag your hand down your face in exaggerated frustration, a gesture that is met by another volley of cackling from the peanut gallery across the street. Great. Fucking fantastic.

"Are you fucking done yet?" Rolling your eyes in exasperation, you let your hand fall flat on the table, a loud smack emphasizing your annoyance.

"I like dragons." Terezi replies randomly, obviously not done. "They have the most delicious scales. Every single color of the rainbow- and then some!" She launches into a list of her favorite flavors, and you tune her out once she gets to cotton candy blue and grape purple. Like hell she can taste and smell colors. Just another symptom of being, oh you know, BATSHIT CRAZY.

Your mind wanders back to before Lalonde had opened the door to this room. She'd said that this was a special practice and different from any other day at the facility, so you reassure yourself that this situation will hopefully never happen again. But- your stomach drops-, Rose had also said that this was an easier way to assign patients to keepers... and that means...

Your scowl deepens by the second. You might end up having to take care of this crack head. Nope. Not gonna happen. You need to find a new buddy. Now.

A quick glance around the room shows that a few patients have been left to themselves finally and frankly any of them will do at this point. You're just about to get up and make an exit when Terezi says something that catches you off guard.

"Their reds are crime-haltingly mouth-watering. And now I've noticed that they're just missing your shade." She gestures towards you with her hand, but it stops at shoulder-level because of her restraints.

"...My shade?" You ask, confused and angry that she's speaking in riddles. You sink back into your seat, your curiosity getting the best of you, but your body is angled out for a quick getaway.

"The scrumptious cherry cough syrup running underneath your skin." She says it as though it were plain as day. "Oh what I wouldn't give to really taste it..." Terezi closes her eyes, a wistful smile on her lips. You, on the other hand, feel a searing sensation start in your gut before launching into the rest of your body.

_What- she? Hell- Fucking- Oh my god_

That explains your current thought process in a nutshell. And it's only a few seconds before you snap, and let her have it.

"No. Fuck. No. Who the hell even says shit like that?!" You find yourself leaning over the table and using your not so inside voice with every intention of chewing this madcap out until she's worse looking than ground beef. To hell if everyone else in your half of the room hears.

"You, Miss Psychopath, deserve to be in here. You want to taste my blood? Were you an axe murderer or something? Liked pretending to be a vampire? Just for the hell of it? That's the most vile thing I have ever heard of! And could you please stop looking at me as though I'm your personal comedian, here to satisfy all your screechy laughy-gas needs? That stupid, disgusting grin can go too, or else I might puke all over you. What, you want to taste that shit too? Be my fucking guest! I-" You're sure you could have gone on and on without even needing to breathe, but a voice cuts through your words and ceases your thoughts.

You freeze. It's so familiar, but you're positive that you would have immediately recognized it, had you physically heard it before. Terezi blinks in front of you, confusion making her grin disappear, but you aren't actually looking at her anymore. More like staring past her in an effort to concentrate. The whole world has stopped just to listen to that tiny, barely-there voice. And it only needed to say one word.

"Karkat?"

* * *

><p>Moments in the Past, But Not Many...<p>

Your name is... John?

Yes, John. Your name is John Egbert, and you knew the second you woke up this morning that today was special. Today would be different. And with each passing occurrence of the early hours of the day, your suspicions only strengthened.

First, you were allowed to sleep in. They never let you sleep for more than eight hours and the medicine they give you makes you go to sleep when they tell you. So that's always been a constant among constants in your life. You're used to the perfect eight hours, so when you finally wake up on your own, you can feel the extra time slept without needing a clock to tell you. That started it; you knew that something was up.

No one else was in your room for an hour after you woke- another detail worthy of suspicion. There's always supposed to be someone watching you when you're not sleeping. They're supposed to protect you- at least that's what you've always assumed to be their purpose. Why else would they be there?

Next form of abnormality: You were bathed. That only happens twice a week on Wednesdays and Saturdays with the exceptions of accidents and whatnot, but one of your keepers bathed you today, a Monday. Dirk was calm and quiet during the wash, but you could tell he was anxious about something. Anxious of what? You wished you knew.

You were then dressed and placed back in your room. Another misstep in routine. You usually go to recess after a wash, or go do something with Rose. You're hardly ever in your room; being in your room meant sleeping, but you'd just slept a few hours ago...

Expecting the time-out to be short lived; you stood in the center of your room waiting to be taken somewhere until your feet ached from standing in the same position for so long. Soon enough though, you realize that they put you in there on purpose. The lack of routine and confusion on your part makes you apprehensive and fidgety. What could possibly be going on?

Your silent questions were eventually answered when Meenah and Aranea came into your room. They'd checked your straightjacket and your clothes like usual procedure, but what happened next was different from anything else that you'd ever participated in since you'd been here. They took you out of your room and to a different one.

Everyone. Everyone was there in the giant room Aranea and Meenah took you to. Vriska, Sollux, Terezi, even Tavros. They were all sitting at different tables, spread out all over. It was strange to you for some reason, seeing everyone in one place. You didn't have long to look around, though, because Meenah was then sitting you down at a table by yourself. She quickly and silently cuffed your ankle to the leg of your chair and walked away with a brief pat on your shoulder.

You don't know where she went or why she left so quickly, because they'd sat you down facing the wall. You frown at its white emptiness. Everyone else was facing inwards or forward. Why are you the only one looking at nothing? Is it not good for you to look?

You stretch your neck around to peer at everyone else behind you. All was quiet except for whispering among tables, and the footsteps of keepers walking in between them. You only turn back around because the angle was starting to strain your neck.

Nothing's going on yet. You pout, wanting to sit and look like everyone else. Is something exciting going to happen? Oh! Is it a surprise?

You smile at that, your demeanor immediately switching gears. It's probably a surprise and you're just not supposed to know until it happens. You accept that theory without question -it's the only one that makes sense to you-, and continue staring at the wall in serene silence.

After a few moments, your surroundings fade away, all except for the blank plaster in front of you. It's quite soothing and peaceful, you think. The details of the wall go fuzzy as you relax your narrowed eyes. Vaguely, the wall reminds you of old fashioned screens in theaters and immediately your thoughts turn to movies and games. It's only a matter of seconds before you're lost in your imagination.

Shapes and color shimmer into existence on the bare whiteness and you watch in fascination as a boy cloaked in blue goes soaring through an equally blue sky. He looks so happy and carefree, until he apparently spots something off camera, and his faces twists in agony. Your heart sinks in pity for him, and you wonder what could make such a young, happy boy look so sad.

Before you could dwell on it though, the movie scene shifts and then you're watching a girl flying too, only now through an elaborate golden city; weaving in between towers and high bridges. She's laughing in bliss at her own ability, her long black hair whipping behind her in the wind. You wish you could join her.

The camera shifts again and you see the trolls. Their gray skin and funnily shaped horns make you smile every time you see them. One of them is grinning as she taps away at her keyboard and you watch, transfixed, as her eight pupils scan across the screen and focus on what she's typing.

The camera pans to her left and focuses in on another troll. You know this one. Even his name. His scowl is deeply ingrained into his face, and his finger press much too forcefully into the keyboard. He doesn't look too happy but then again, you muse to yourself, when is he ever? His mouth opens as he shouts something at the computer, and to your surprise, you can hear his voice; the rest of the movie before had been silent.

"No. Fuck. No. Who the hell even says shit like that?!" Your eyes widen. It's so realistic; you can almost believe it's real. Your imagination must be improving.

"You, Miss Psychopath, deserve to be in here. You want to taste my blood?" So loud... right in your ear... The images in front of you start fading away, and the white wall comes back into focus. You narrow your eyes in order to see clearly again.

"Were you an axe murderer or something? Liked pretending to be a vampire? Just for the hell of it? That's the most vile thing I have ever heard of!" Blinking away the remnants of the images, you crane your neck to look behind you and notice that at least twenty more people, total strangers, have entered the room. You also realize that you're not daydreaming anymore, yet his voice is still here. That means he's real. He's here.

"And could you please stop looking at me as though I'm your personal comedian, here to satisfy all your screechy laughy-gas needs?" You scan the room for him, and it takes a moment but you finally find him. He looks so different. Where are his horns? He's only one table over. You can't take your eyes off him, and you barely even notice that you've stood up.

"That stupid, disgusting grin can go too, or else I might puke all over you. What, you want to taste that shit too?" You step closer, trying to undo the knot in your throat. You have to say something. Get his attention. Let him know you're here.

"K- Kar..." But he keeps on raging, oblivious. You're too quiet.

"Be my fucking guest!"

Come on! Say something! Your tongue goes numb and your cheeks are suddenly wet.

"I-"

Please-

"Karkat?"


	4. Chapter 3

Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane

-Chapter 3-

Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you have come to realize that leaving particular people by themselves acquires certain negative consequences.

For example, one day towards the end of the semester you had to miss school for a dental appointment. You'd already informed your professor of the event and taken the pop quiz he'd scheduled for that day in medical class. The essay due that day was turned in as well, and anything else that needed to be taken care of was, just in case you didn't make it back to campus before the period was over. It was your medical training class and you currently had flying colors in the gradebook, so the professor didn't mind your absence.

The appointment went smoothly and fortunately you managed to leave earlier than scheduled, avoiding having to sit through lunch break traffic. The drive back was uneventful as a result, however you never minded peace and quiet. You pulled into a free parking space outside the medical building and took your time gathering your things to return to class, having presumed that your peers were probably still testing.

Yet, as you had walked down the hallway towards the classroom, you remember greatly wishing that quizzing had been what was taking place.

"The fuck do you mean I can't go to the bathroom?!" A loud and familiar voice filtered through the closed door, several octaves high and uncaring to the fact that he could be heard quite clearly throughout the building. You slide to a halt in front of the door, unable to see in because of the lack of windows, though sight is hardly even necessary for you to take a wild guess as to what's going on.

"I don't give a shit about your quiz! I'll finish it right after I finish pissing all over your fucking desk, if you don't let me get to a goddamn toilet!" Yep. Definitely Karkat.

After a moment of internal dread, composure, and self-scolding, you turned the knob and stepped through the doorway. You'd immediately spotted Karkat standing precariously on the edge of his chair, with one hand undoing his fly and the other making an obscene gesture with his fingers. You remember most clearly the terrified look of the classmates unfortunate enough to have sat by him that day.

Long story short, you calmed him down, forced him to continue his quiz and somehow smoothed things over with the professor before the class had even finished their test. It counted as a new record for you. The explanation to cover Karkat, however, was shoddy and completely implausible. You have no idea how the teacher even bought it.

"OCD...mental disorder...forgot his pills this morning... Yes, yes, I will inform his mother personally... He also experienced extreme diarrhea before class... I'm very sorry..."

You were all smiles and apologies with the professor, but turned coolly distant when you returned to your seat beside the trouble maker, whom had taken on his trademark scowl and slumped in his seat with his arms crossed. The way he ignored the rest of the lesson made you vow not to grant him usage of your notes for the final test in a few weeks.

It wasn't until lunch that Karkat addressed you without yelling or growling out his words. In fact he'd turned to you and, over a flattened tuna sandwich, said the word "sorry."

You don't think your eyebrows could have flown any higher on your forehead. Pleasant surprise made you accept the apology immediately, and you expected the topic to end there. It was already a lot deeper than you thought Karkat would ever go. But as you faced your salad and jabbed your fork at a stray carrot, the words Karkat muttered barely audibly made your heart melt.

"I ...never actually... had to use the bathroom... I um... noticed you weren't there and got worried. I was gonna... call and see if you were okay."

That was the first time you'd ever hugged Karkat. And the first time he'd ever hugged you back.

Lunches were always better from that day forward, and you always remembered to tell Karkat when you were going to be absent.

...

Wow, you got really off topic there. You shake your head and inwardly scold yourself for branching off into that memory. You'd started off with an actual point to adding your two cents into the piggy bank.

Leaving certain people on their own tends to acquire negative consequences. Especially during certain times, like with the mentally ill.

Certain people like Karkat. And certain times like right now.

* * *

><p>Your name is now Karkat Vantas.<p>

It's him.

The boy from the front page of the packet.

But... he doesn't look anything like the paper.

You can't help but think that the print does zero justice to the blue eyes staring at you, even with the thick tears streaming from them. His face is contorted in confusion, shock, and somehow he still manages to look completely overwhelmed with relief and happiness. His black hair is stuck up in all directions, but its pattern is so familiar to you. You have a sudden compulsion to reach out and run your fingers through his ebony locks.

Your eyes never leave his, but you notice how skinny he is. A lot skinnier than his photo. His cinereal clothes hang like sheets from his slight frame and the size makes him look super young. Only the form-fitting white straightjacket and his older-looking face mars his youth. His lack of shoes also makes him shorter.

Your jaw goes slack and you find yourself taking a step towards him. You want to comfort him for some reason. His crying is like a disease- extremely painful and contagious. That must be what makes your eyes prick and your arms yearn to hug him. He's so close yet so far out of your reach, so familiar yet so foreign to you.

His face lights up and a wobbly smile crawls onto his maw as you take another step towards him. Your reaction seems to encourage him and he jerks towards you, dragging a fold-out chair in his wake. The sight of the ankle cuff makes anger flare red-hot in your chest for some indiscernible reason. But the emotion quick dissipates, drowned out by all the others flooding your senses.

The straightjacket binding his arms strains and goes taut as he pulls against it, probably trying to reach towards you. For some reason, that guess makes your heart warm and expand. He looks elated and words come tumbling out of his mouth, all incoherent except for a few snatches of phrases.

"... Karkat- troll... game... he remembers... finally- think I'm crazy... he remembers!" His eyes stare unblinkingly into yours and you don't think he even knows what he's saying. Confusion swims its way into your brain.

_How does he know my name? What am I remembering that he knows? What's going on?_

Something is wrong with you. You don't know this person. You've never seen him before. You don't even know his name! But his sapphires are so captivating, so achingly like seeing home again that you are made speechless. Time has slowed down. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Hours? You can't control it; your body is moving of its own accord and you just want to embrace him, maybe even k-

The connection between your brown eyes and his blue hues is abruptly and joltingly severed. You blink and see white covering the azure you'd been staring at this entire time. The boy's head has been replaced...

By a bag.

There's a quick moment of silence where neither you, the boy, nor the person who'd blinded him breathed. Then the bag started screaming.

A shrill shriek pierced the air and you flinched at the high vibration against your eardrums. Almost immediately three lab coats you don't recognize jump into your line of sight and grab the boy. His body starts thrashing and writhing as they restrain his neck, torso and legs. Eyes wide and limbs like lead, you stand there immobile and watch as they try and wrestle the boy's screaming body into submission. Your chest constricts because, from where you stand, it looks like they're choking him.

_No. No!_

You force yourself out of your trance and charge forward. Your hands reach out to tackle the nearest lab coat to the ground, to free this stranger from the pain he must be in. But you never make it more than two steps. An iron-hard grip clasps onto your arms and both are yanked roughly back and behind you. You're jerked to a halt and you let out a shout of surprise, trying and failing to whirl around and face your oppressor.

You shout out a slew of swear words and struggle against the hold on your forearms. Everything but the patient's screaming and your own voice is drowned out, distracting and you can't think straight. You find your voice rising until it joins in with the boy's pitch. However, the grip behind you twists your arms up painfully and you let out a yelp before falling silent.

Helplessness makes your heart drop to your knees as you watch the lab coats drag the patient further and further away. He's still fighting, still screaming out what seems to be your name and it's painful as hell to your ears. You're still staring after them when the door they exit through slams shut, cutting the boy out of your vision completely.

His shrieks are still audible, but soon fade away as the lab coats take him farther away from the room.

The white noise of your background slowly tunes back into reality, though it's hardly even necessary. Everyone and everything has already fallen silent. You glance around, suddenly very short of breath and confused as all hell.

_What the fuck just happened?_

Your gaze first lands on Terezi, whose newly-gagged mouth is pulled taut by a white rag. It forces her lips away from her teeth and it looks like a fake-ass knock off from her genuine maniacal grin. Her cloudy eyes are locked on you, but she doesn't look angry or hateful for you putting her there-since you'd already realized all the commotion was your fault-. Instead, pity swims in her teal hues. Part of you wonders why she would pity you when she's the one being manhandled into silence, but the other part doesn't even want to ask.

Both of Terezi's arms have been shoved behind her, similarly to yours, but it looks a lot more uncomfortable due to the chains keeping her wrists by her waist. Her back is still ramrod straight, and the gag in her mouth forces her head to tilt back into an awkward angle. The girl holding her had apparently forced her up, since Terezi obviously wasn't sitting anymore. You numbly notice that the staff member is the fish-pun girl from earlier. And you have one guess as to where her partner in crime Anime Shades is at.

By the time you glance around the rest of the room, the upset patients have been calmed and, instead of focusing on themselves, everyone is focused on you. Wary glances, flat out glares, blank stares, and befuddled gazing. It makes your face go warm and you mentally kick yourself.

_So much for a first impression. Way to fucking go, Karkat. What the hell were you thinking?!_

You spot Kanaya, her green eyes wide and a hand over her mouth as she stares at you in shock. She's halfway out of her seat and looks like she wants to run over to you and shove the guy holding you into a mud puddle. You can almost hear her joke that it would improve his fashion sense. You're about to scrounge up a reassuring smile for her when a shock of familiar blonde hair appears in front of you. Two icy lavender eyes meet your gaze.

"I believe you and I have an appointment?" Sarcasm laces Rose's voice, but the cold set to her jaw lets you know she wasn't at all joking. The grip on your arms is suddenly released and you yank your limbs away from the person behind you. Glaring, you glance over your shoulder at Anime Shades. You had a feeling it was him. He doesn't react and instead gazes at you impassively. At least you think he does; you still can't see his eyes.

"You need a manicure, fuckass." You mutter angrily at him, rubbing the sides of your forearms where his hands had held you. He doesn't even blink at your insult, but you didn't stick around to see how he actually took it. Instead, you follow Rose through one of the doors on the side walls –a different one from where the other boy had been taken- and silently pray that it won't be the last doorway you walk through.

You have a sinking feeling your luck isn't all that good, though.

* * *

><p>Your name is John Egbert.<p>

You can't see anything except for shadowy whiteness. You can't hear anything but the screams from your own mouth. You can't think about anything other than the fact that they took Karkat away from you.

One second you were feet away from being in Karkat's arms; the next you were blindfolded and suffocated and scared and dragged away from the only place you wanted to be so desperately at. You couldn't think of anything to do but scream. Everyone was shouting and grabbing at you, saying confusing things like "...It's too early to give another dose... can we sedate him? ... get him out of here!..."

You felt yourself being pulled and hauled out of the giant room. Each step only made you screech louder, and you voice was sore and hoarse by the time they shoved you through a final doorway. They yanked off the bag around your face and bolted out the door before you could follow them.

Blinking and disoriented, it took you a moment to realize that you were back in your room. Terror immediately rips through you.

_No! I don't want to go back to sleep! I need to see Karkat! Give Karkat back! You monsters! I hate you!_

You'd charged into the door, ramming your shoulder into it over and over and over again. You were breathless and silent, shrieking only in your head. Your room suddenly felt so small. The walls were closing in on you, the ceiling was lowering to meet the tile floor. The very air particles around you were pressing down on your body.

You crumble into a heap by the door, your breath coming in gasps as your panic attack leaves you without energy or a voice or rational thinking.

_Kar-_

Breath.

_Kat-_

Breath.

_I_

Breath-Breath

_Need_

Breath-Breath

_KARKAT!_

Breath-Breath-Breath

Then you started screaming again.

* * *

><p>Now back to being Karkat.<p>

Rose's walk is brisk and purposeful as she leads you down a quiet hallway.

Perfect place for a murder scene. Fucking fantastic.

She pauses outside an open door and glances in before stepping through the doorway, not bothering to motion you to follow. You're expected to. However, you hesitate in handing the balance of your life to a female therapist that towers a grand total of two inches over you. Another moment of indecision and semi-irrational paranoia, and you follow her into the room.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, a singular rectangle on the ceiling being the only source of fluorescence. You glance around and gather your bearings. There's a wooden desk in the back-center with nothing on it and a spinning chair tucked underneath. Behind that sits a towering, but empty bookshelf along with an old looking bulb-less lamp. It reminds you of an office. There's a few decorative pictures on the walls, but its otherwise lack of personality suggests that it didn't belong to anybody.

You walk a few steps to stand behind a fold-out chair in front of the desk, and watch Rose warily as she closes the door behind the two of you. Your thoughts quickly turn to the recent course of events.

What the hell happened back there?

You'd been so sure you knew that boy. You'd heard his voice somewhere, seen his eyes before, and –you blanch at the suddenly unwelcome thought- probably knew him on a personal level. That kind of emotion doesn't just appear out of nowhere. You'd wanted to hold him, stop his crying, and make sure he never cried ever again.

_Damn, what the fuck did I eat this morning?_

There isn't one person walking on this earth you can think of that has ever struck that sort of feeling with you. Not Kanaya, not your high school sweetheart or even your mother. So why the fuck is a total stranger making your heart beat so fast and your lungs so hard to function?

And that isn't even the weirdest part.

All of that emotion and longing from moments earlier? Gone. You have no idea why you'd felt such recognition when you saw him, because you felt no such thing now. You're 100% positive you've never seen that guy in your life. All the yearning to stop his crying, the need to hold and hug him, the relief at his very existence... all vanished. And it's confused you halfway to Jupiter and back.

The sudden transition from extreme emotion to unfathomable befuddlement leaves your brain hopelessly fried. And it doesn't help when Rose's cold voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Three. Weeks. Three weeks. That's the extent of the time we've painstakingly managed to prevent him from experiencing another episode." She walks around to the other side of the desk as she speaks, gesturing subtly with her hands. Though, you don't find the gestures themselves all that subtle.

"What?" You ask lamely, just barely rising above the tidal wave of emotions you're still trying to sort through. Something wittier and at least semi-intelligent would have come out if not for it, you swear.

"What?" She mimics childishly, making anger flare in your veins. "The duet scene you recently performed in the cafeteria is "what." The sburbenzodiazepine we've been administering to him for the past three weeks has only just begun spreading from his hemoglobin into his brain cells. That episode has probably started the rejection process already. You just threw the whole of it down the drain-"

"Whoa, hold the fuck up. It's not my fault that kid decided to go apeshit!" You shout to interrupt her and point angrily at the door as though the patient in question were standing outside or just before it.

"For one, yes, the blame does in fact happen to fall upon your shoulders. We informed all of the trialees, a group which I believe includes yourself, of the risks of this operation. You were expected to proceed with caution. An action of which you did not. And for two, he is not a "kid." Her eyes narrow at you and her voice is coldly calm.

"Guess who gives a fuck? Sure as hell isn't me!" Rose's change in demeanor only pissed you off more. She didn't even see what happened! You're suddenly an axe murderer for looking at the guy?!

"Well, it would be wise of you to "give a fuck." Seeing as I now have full right to have you and your bags thrown unceremoniously onto the wet pavement outside." She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at you. "The only thing is, based on John's reaction, I have a feeling that kicking you out will only complicate matters further for us." Her tone had slowly morphed into business mode rather than chipped ice.

You let out an agitated sigh and roll your eyes. "I don't even want to be here anyway! The only thing I care about is knowing why the fuck that ki-patient knows my name and was acting like we've been best fucking friends since birth!" Your voice had risen to a shout and you realize that you'd stepped forward and were leaning over the desk, practically spitting in Lalonde's face.

She raises a hand to her cheek and melodramatically wipes your saliva from under her eye before looking back at you, her gaze leveling. "His name is John Egbert. He was admitted here when he was thirteen with no records of family or guardians. He merely appeared at a police station with no forms or documents of his existence, rambling on about how his name was John and that he needed to find "the other players." Most of everything else he said was incomprehensible according to the reports I've read about him. He was immediately dubbed insane. With no one to contact to tell that he was sentenced to asylum, he was fully enrolled here-"

"Yes, yes, yes, but what does any of that shit have to do with me?" You interrupt her again, earning you an immediate, scalding glare.

"If you would cease interrupting me every time I pause to take a breath, then maybe I can get to that." She replies icily before continuing.

"Ever since he's been here he's always talking about a past he's lived, or an alternate life he still remembers. Little details always slip out of him, but what I've gathered is that he played a game with three other people, and that game caused the end of the world. The game then transported them to an alternate dimension where they met an alien race called trolls that had already played the game. The rest of his ramblings are too intricate and out of order to tell much else, and to save time, I won't go into detail. The point is, he believes that all of his dreams and memories were and are real. He also believes that more than half the people currently in this institution were also in his fantasy world. The players, the trolls, all of them, John believes are right here, right now and that they just don't remember playing the game."

It's your sigh that makes Rose stop this time. Her glare is scathing and you return it full force. None of this actually mattered to you, you'd let it fly right over your head and only truly heard about every other word she uttered. You weren't going to interrupt, but you figure you might as well go ahead now.

"So why am I such a special case with him, if he's already surrounded by his fantasy characters?" But, as you say the words, a sinking feeling drops into your stomach. The intense emotion from minutes before lurks in the back of your mind. Rose's gaze seems to soften a fraction, as though she'd just realized something as well.

"There was always one troll John used to talk about almost every second of every day. Even after we placed him on the hallucination medication. He'd always speak of the times the two of them spent together as best friends, and I daresay even more than that.

Rose pauses with her mouth open and snaps it shut abruptly. She glances away and then back towards you, as though regretting having to say what she says next.

_Shit._

"His name was Karkat."

_Fuck._


	5. Chapter 4

Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane

-Chapter 4-

"So you mean to tell me that that little fucker thinks I'm his long lost boyfriend? From a different fucking universe?" You'd waited exactly point five six seconds before flipping your shit all over Rose Lalonde.

Oh and, just in case you didn't notice, we're still being Karkat.

"That observation seems to be quite sound according to the information I just supplied you with." Rose is gazing at you warily, judging your reaction. You imagine her internally diagnosing it as livid.

"No, fuck no! I don't even know the kid! And he was looking at me like I was some fucking saint coming down from the gates of heaven just to carry him bridal style into oblivion. Oh-ho-ho, if he thinks that, he's got another fucking thought coming at him. And it most definitely has something to do with my middle finger!" You pause for breath, backing away from Rose and face-palming yourself.

"Obscene gestures are strictly prohibited. Especially around the patients." Rose quips, monotonously, as though it were recited from a rule book.

"Fuck you, and your stupid 'prohibitions!' Like I even want to be here anyway! And you know what? I honestly think that the only people with mental disorders are the fucking staff here! No wonder everyone is going insane, they're surrounded by it! Especially that John kid! He's especially crazy. I'm not even gay!"

Okay. Yeah. You've officially lost your marbles over this. You're rambling away on a tangent like usual.

Rose glances you up and down, barely letting you finish before speaking. "As I've stated before, John is not a kid. Nor is he even a minor. He and I share the same age in fact."

You take a deep breath, as though to compose yourself.

Hahaha, that was pretty funny joke. Wasn't it?

"Wow! What trivial information! Have you forgotten? I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck." You snarl your words at her and gesture with your hands for emphasis, though the gestures are pretty meaningless. It just looks like you're shoving something at her.

She stares at you impassively, but you can see her brain working behind her purple shaded eyes; choosing her words carefully. It's a moment of quiet before she starts talking again.

"I believe we need a change of subject." She says slowly, and when you don't respond, the blonde continues.

"Now, I would like to point out that John's reaction, and his episode thereafter, was neither his fault, nor his intention." Rose places a hand on the edge of the desk, absentmindedly tapping it with the tips of her fingers. However, her gaze is still focused critically on you.

"Really? And how the fuck would you know about his intentions? Seemed pretty genuine to me that he wanted to make-out with my face!" You admit that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you're past caring. You still can't get over the fact that a kid- err patient- thinks he's in love with you. Or something like that. Rose changing the subject threw you off your fury train a bit.

"Experience. That's how I know his intentions. See, barely even half the things mentally challenged people do are truly genuine to the person themselves. Their mental diagnosis, their "problems."" She physically made quotation marks with her fingers as she said this. "Affect them in ways that, had they been sane, they would have never chosen to do. This is the case with nearly all of our patients. That's why we classify their boughts of disorder as episodes. They don't always step out of line. It's actually more of an occasional thing than a rule of thumb, so to speak."

For some reason, that made you think of Terezi and how Anime Shades put her back in line. Looked pretty routine to you. You shake your head quickly, shoving that thought away. That's not the problem here.

"An episode? That's what that was?" While Rose explained –amazingly- you managed to calm down enough to keep your voice level. That's probably the only reason why you didn't start screaming when you remembered the teal-eyed freak from earlier. Doesn't mean you're not still pissed as fuck, but you don't exactly feel like continuing your flight away from the handle at the moment.

"Yes. If our patients did not experience episodes, no matter how often, they would not be here. Obviously." Rose quirks an eyebrow skyward, her smug little smirk finally returning as she tries to put a lid on her previous anger. "Bringing us back to the problem at hand, fortunately for all of us, John's episode was one of his less violent ones." She levels a cross between a glare and a stare at you. As though she couldn't make up her mind whether to let it go or keep blaming you.

"Frankly," She continues, "I wouldn't be surprised if John doesn't even remember his episode in a couple hours. If the rejection process failed to start because enough of the medication was already planted, then he should already be forgetting about it. That would be the best case scenario. Especially for you." She nods her chin at you for emphasis. And then her expression darkens.

"But if he starts to reject it, then it will cause multiple problems. Starting with the fact that years of work and research would be going straight into the theoretical trash can. I'm not sure if you know, but this isn't exactly an inexpensive kind of job. Medication costs plenty already, not factoring in John's sedative cross. If he rejects it, then twenty one doses are wasted."

_Like it's my fucking fault._

It kind of is...

_Oh shut the fuck up._

"So why is he such a special case? What's so different about his medication?" You had to fight to keep your voice calm, but you couldn't shove down the edgy growl that accompanied your consonants. You know that if you want to understand any of this, you need to sit the fuck down with your air head. Doing something out of character for a change.

Rose doesn't hesitate in answering, latching onto your second question like a well-practiced mantra.

"The medication is called sburbenzodiazepine. It's a form of sedative that acts like oxygen in John's hemoglobin. The first phase of its process is the sedation itself, directly affecting John's muscles and nerves to calm him down. Once he is properly sedated, the 'sburb' portion of the benzodiazepine travels through his blood towards the brain. The time it takes to actually deposit there varies, but we are certain it's at least reached the brain within three weeks.

"From there, it's supposed to be a form of reverse hallucination in the frontal lobe, where long-term memories are stored. However, the process cannot take place if the hippocampus that transmits and translates memory decides to reject it. And anything can set off that synapse in John's brain to alert the hippocampus to attack the intruding chemicals. It doesn't matter if the process is starting, ending, or directly in the middle. If the process is occurring and the signal goes off to stop, then the chemical is rendered useless." Rose finally pauses, barely out of breath even though she might as well have recited a chapter out of a neurology text book.

You have to admit, that at least half of that didn't make any sense to your already flabbergasted mind. You studied basic medical training, goddammit! You didn't exactly sign up for a neuro-class. Some of that stuff did seem logical, and it's just taking a few seconds to take it all in. But, there's still something nagging at you, and it's not about the confusing vocabulary Rose just spat at you.

_She'd said that it was a sedative, meaning that more patients could be taking it. It's a psychiatric ward, after all, but if it were a medication that multiple patients were currently taking, then usually the doctor would generalize the information so that it's easier to understand. But she made it specifically about John, as though it were made especially for him..._

Rose doesn't seem like the kind of person to make that sort of mistake, if it is a mistake. You barely know her, but you're pretty sure about that. Plus, she completely disregarded your first question. Maybe that's why she answered as soon as you asked the second one.

_Was she hoping I'd forget about the first question?_

A moment of silence passes between the two of you. You quietly brooding about why Rose would make such a slip up if you happened to be incorrect, and her patiently waiting for you to take the information in.

"You didn't answer my other question." You'd decided to just be blunt, never been all that great about indirect approaches anyway. You say your words carefully, something telling you that it's a careful sort of topic. "Why's John so special?"

* * *

><p>Your name is John Egbert.<p>

You have to get them to come back. Get the people into the room and beg them if you have to. You have to get their attention. Somehow. Think, John, think.

You've already tried screaming. Already tried crying. No answer, no response, no door opening. It was going to drive you insane. How do you get them to notice you?!

Maybe if you stopped breathing.

They'd have to pay attention to that, wouldn't they?

They wouldn't let you die, would they?

You steel yourself. You have to try. You have to tell them. You need Karkat. They need to know.

Just put this blanket around your neck. Use your feet, it's easy. No, wrap it like this. Yes, yes. There you go.

Now pull.

Shhh. It's okay if you see stars. It's okay if your vision fades. Don't worry, they're coming.

The door slams open and people rush in. But they're empty figures. No features. No faces. Just people.

They grab at your legs and yank your blanket away. Your eyes open wide, but you can't see anything. Air suddenly rushes into your lungs. You suck in huge gasps of sweet oxygen. You're grateful, yet remorseful at the same time. It didn't work. Your reaction is strange. It confuses you and scares you.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. You whine pitifully as they leave. They don't speak. Don't even glance your way.

We saved you, you imagine them saying.

We saved you, but you still don't get to see Karkat.

So maybe you're better off dead?

They take your blanket with them.

You need another method. Another way to die.

Don't people die from bleeding? From being stabbed? Or just hit? Really hard?

Your vision clears after a few moments, and you can see again. Though, you're not sure if you want to. Your gaze lands on the leg of your bed.

What if you wriggled up under there? Can you fit? Yes, you can. Just squirm closer to the leg. Yes, just like that. Now, use your feet.

You lift the bed up. It's surprisingly light and you need little effort to raise it into the air. You have just enough space, and shift so that your stomach is directly beneath the leg.

And then you let it slam down.

You honestly didn't expect it to hurt so much. You'd thought it was so light. Breathing is suddenly hard to do again. Your abdomen is on fire. But still, you force your feet to lift up the bed again.

Slam!

"Ugh."

Slam!

"Ahhhhggghh."

Slam!

"AHH..."

Sla-

Your feet had started doing it of their own accord. You weren't even thinking about it. But when the bed fails to descend and impale you again, confusion makes you moan out an incoherent word. You don't even know what you said.

Someone's dragging you out from under the bed now. They're yanking off your straightjacket and lifting your shirt underneath. Everything's blurry and the only noises are white and distant. All you can feel is someone's gentle hands inspecting your stomach.

You open your mouth to try and speak again. And again, nothing comes out.

Why can't you speak? You need to speak. You need to tell them. You need Karkat.

"Hnnnn."

"John?"

You groan, trying to pinpoint the voice. It's high and girlish, yet you recognize its deep urgency. It wants a reply.

"Hmmm?' It's all you can manage.

"John, can you hear me?" It's louder this time. More clear. You squint your eyes and a figure swims in your smudgy vision.

"John, please answer me..." The fingers leave your stomach and a pair of hands cup both your cheeks. Vibrant green penetrates the murkiness of your sight.

Huh, you didn't realize you were crying. That, or she's sweating way too much. Either way, her fingertips are slick on your face, and she has to shift them back into place every few seconds.

"...ple...please..." You manage to choke out. You alternately squint and open your eyes wide, unable to make out who is touching you.

"What do you need?" Her voice presses. Clarity leaks into your eyes. You can make out green oculars set behind circular glasses. It's Jade. Relief floods you, but disappointment is quick to follow. She's a friend. But she's not Karkat.

"What do you need, John?" She repeats, her eyes probing into yours, genuine concern overflowing their grassy depths.

"Kar... Karkat!" You start quiet, but end up spitting it out, desperation making your body go rigid and your eyes fly open. Incapable of shouting, your voice was too hoarse, but you'd managed to squeeze out his name.

"Karkat..." Jade frowns but quickly smiles to hide it. With your head clearing, you can tell that she's trying not to upset you. But you don't care. You've finally told someone. You want Karkat. "I can get you Karkat."

"Promise?" You sound childish and whiney, but you don't care. Your voice is coming back, and the rest of the room has stopped spinning. You barely notice that there's other people in the room, or that everyone's silent except for you and Jade.

"Only if you promise to stop hurting yourself." Jade's tone turns serious and her gaze becomes hard against yours. Her grip on your cheeks tightens.

"Karkat." You whisper, confirming your promise. She seems to understand, because she smiles kindly and drops her hands from your face. You wish she hadn't, though. It was warm, comforting.

Jade stands and you just now notice that you're sitting cross-legged with your back propped up against the wall. Your bed is gone too. They must have taken it out when you were talking to Jade. You glance around at all the lab coats in your room. You recognize Meenah, Dirk, and Feferi. They all look away from you, as though embarrassed. You idly wonder why. Everything is all better now; Jade just promised you Karkat. So why is everybody so tense?

But all of those thoughts fly out the window when you see Jade walking towards the door.

"No!" You scream, jumping up. She turns towards you in surprise, right as you crash into her.

Then something strikes you as strange. All you'd done was tackle her, in the same way you usually would anybody if you felt inclined to do it. Head and chest butting right into the person, since your straightjacket couldn't exactly let you-

Wait...

You glance down at your arms, which are hanging freely. Shock and confusion twists your face out of proportion, having forgotten that they'd removed it to examine the damage to your stomach.

_Why are they just swinging like that? Aren't they supposed to be crossed over my chest? What's wrong with them?!_

You're about to start freaking out when Jade's arms wrap around you.

_Is this... a ... hug?_

You're so confused, but Jade's voice makes you forget about your puzzlement. Or, at least her words did.

"I have to go now, John. I'm going to go get Karkat for you." Her voice is gentle, as though speaking to a frightened animal. She pulls back, holding you by the shoulders at arm's length. "When I get back, it'll be with Mr. Vantas, okay? I promise."

You're immediately put at ease. As though, the past couple minutes hadn't ever happened. All that mattered was that Jade was going to get Karkat for you. Jade wouldn't lie to you. You know she wouldn't. She's never lied to you and knows so much...

_It's because she sees stuff in her dreams. She lives on Prospit, remember? The clouds in Skaia show her the future. That's how she knew to send you Liv Tyler. She even foresaw her own dea-_

Black.

Everything is black.

The world is gone. Everyone is gone.

Everything is nothing.

You blink.

And the world starts up again.

Huh... what happened to your train of thought just then? What were you even thinking about?

"Okay." You hear yourself say to Jade. What are you agreeing with?

"Good. Now, I'll be right back, kay?" She smiles and then turns on her heel, striding out of the door to your room and disappearing from sight. You wonder where she's going, but shake your head to clear it. None of your business.

You turn back to the three keepers still in your room.

_Huh? Where did my bed go?_

You look at their familiar faces. Dirk's anime shades, Meenah's braids, and Feferi's colorful scrubs. They've been your keepers since forever. But something must be bothering them. They're all so tense..

You tilt your head in confusion as they continue watching you warily. Finally, Feferi steps forward with your straightjacket. She offers you a hesitant smile and motions you over. You comply, but you're extremely confused again.

_When did they take my jacket off? I'm always supposed to have that on. I've always had that on._

As they strap you in, you idly wonder what Jade had to leave for, and why she felt the need to reassure you that she'd be back soon. Did you do something? You hope you're not in trouble.

Your name is John Egbert and, at the moment, the name Karkat Vantas means nothing to you.

* * *

><p>Your name is Rose Lalonde, and this situation keeps getting more and more complicated for you.<p>

You do not want to get into the subject as to why John's situation is so much different from the other patient's. There's too many reasons, too many ways to explain, and not enough time to speak. Even if you did want to, you're not sure why Karkat wants to know.

You were hoping he'd drop that question as soon as you'd ignored it, distracting him with shoving text book pages down his throat. But alas, he's a bit quicker than you expected. You have to admit you're impressed. Only slightly, though.

"Last I checked, you were livid about the fact that Mr. Egbert referenced you as a friend. Why do you all of a sudden find concern with his situation?" You make sure to keep your voice even. You've had plenty of this volunteer's bullshit for one day, and if sacrificing your urge to go off on him will keep him from going off on you, you suppose holding your tongue for a day or two isn't so much of a horrid thing.

"I just want to know why you care so much about a fucking problem child-" You shoot him a glare. "Err, patient." He mutters compliantly, giving you a sidelong glance that you ignore. So what if you feel like defending the poor soul? It's not any of Karkat's business, that's for sure. You smirk to hide your frown and pause to think for a moment.

Karkat Vantas is stubborn, headstrong, and a total asshole. You'd already gathered information to that extent the second you'd laid eyes on him in the lobby. However, you weren't expecting him to cause trouble on the first day. Didn't strike you as the troublemaker type. He slouches when he walks, keeps his head down, and doesn't speak unless spoken to. All signs of a distant, yet somewhat docile being.

You still can't believe this is the Karkat John's been muttering about for years.

Frowning, you inwardly scold yourself for not having seen it sooner. This whole problem could have been avoided. But Jade was the one who looked through the files thoroughly. You'd just skimmed through them to double check and put your signature on the last page. And with John's medication turning his ramblings into rare conversations about general concepts rather than actual characters, you'd begun to forget about John's trolls and games.

The name just didn't jump out at you at the time. And neither did the picture. But of course it wouldn't. John's description was always a troll, and none of the trialees had gray skin and horns.

Glancing up, your gaze meets Karkat's brown eyes. They're a dull shade. But the flecks of copper and burgundy make them seem almost reddish.

_Kind of like Dave_, you muse to yourself.

As you deliberate, you can't find any way out of this without telling the stubborn prick. Maybe just feed him half the truth. Or you could lie. But that puts a sour taste in your mouth.

Plus, on the possibility John throws a fit, we might be forced to keep him.

Finally decided, you open your mouth to speak. Karkat catches your glance and immediately perks up to attention.

_Hmmm. Interesting._

"You're correct. John is one of our special cases. He-"

"Rose?!" Your head snaps in the direction of the door as a fist lands heavily on the wood. "Rose! Is Karkat with you?"

As you hustle over to the door, you see Karkat go rigidly still at the mention of his name.

By now you've placed the voice. It's Jade. And you don't like her tone. It's too urgent.

"Rose! Karkat! Oh thank goodness!" Jade stumbles through the door as you throw it open, almost tripping over her white skirt. She's out of breath and a lot more strands than usual are escaping from her ponytail.

"Jade? What's wrong? Did you run all the way here?" You grab her shoulders and steady her, but her gaze is on Karkat. When she speaks, her phrases are choppy so she can breathe in between them.

"We need you. In room 413. Now."


	6. Chapter 5

Skaian Institute for the Mentally Insane

-Chapter 5-

You- Your name... Your name is...

Gamzee.

Gamzee Motherfucking Makara.

And you haven't been more sure of one singular thing in your entire life.

He's here.

No doubt, completely positive. You can feel it. His presence is like a long-awaited prayer brought to life. A prayer unspoken, unthought-of, unborn, but nonetheless necessary. It's every bit a part of you as your own painfully tied arms.

You haven't seen him. Haven't heard him. No physical evidence of his existence, even... But you know he's here. You know he's here like you know your own sanity.

100%.

You know exactly why he's here, too. He's come to set you free. He's going to set all of you free. He's going to destroy your enemies. All those deemed unmirthful. All those assholes who keep sticking you with needles. All those motherfuckers who keep tying your arms and legs together. And that one bitch with purple eyes who stands and watches the whole thing.

Just thinking about all of them makes your blood heighten in temperature, boiling against your wretched skin. It's begging to be sliced, to be set free. It's in anticipation to the wonderful miracle you know is coming. You can only calm yourself down with reassurances of the miracles he will bring you.

You shove all thoughts of the unmirthful aside with a face-splitting grin. They don't matter anymore. He's going to kill them all anyway. He'll slaughter everyone.

He's your angel.

Your Angel of Death.

* * *

><p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and you're not sure how much more of this you can take.<p>

Three. Times.

It's already happened three times.

Three tries of walking into the room and being met by a pair of blue eyes the size of saucers. Three occurrences of gross sobbing and being tackled to the ground by those same azure oculars. Three happenings of watching him be yanked away and wrestled into submission while his elation turns into screeching panic. Three replays of being shoved back out the doorway. And then three periods of agonizingly slow waiting.

Like right now, you're just waiting for the storm to pass. Waiting for his brain to make up its mind about whether or not you are worth its time. And so far, it's been completely indecisive and bipolar.

Why can't he decide to remember or just forget already?

You let out a sigh and allow your head to fall back against the wall you're sitting in front of. The walls are a boring gray and the corridor stretches for miles in each direction, only decorated with metal doors at ten feet intervals.

The hallway is deathly silent. Meaning it's deathly silent inside the room too. Drawing your knees closer to you, you tuck them underneath your torso to sit cross legged. It's a futile effort to get more comfortable on the cold floor.

So what's going through your own mind? When you're not thinking about what's going through his?

If you're honest, you have no idea. When Jade practically had to drag you by the arm to John's room, all you felt was anger and frustration.

You didn't sign up for this! Who the hell does he think he is, making some fantastical crush on a completely random stranger? There is certainly something wrong with him, and you swear to god, if he gets you kicked out of here you're going to throttle him. He should at least let you quit of your own dignity goddammit!

But after the second time trying to see if you were remembered and seeing his stupid pathetic expression of utter pain, all your anger turned to pity and your frustration into confusion. You don't hate him anymore. You don't want to rip his hair out and make him eat the fur balls... but you're a long way from liking him even a little bit.

That draws your thoughts back to the very first time you'd seen him. The catharsis of that moment seems impossible now, since you're pretty sure you're not capable of so much emotion in a normal situation. Now you just pity the way they treat John. He's an animal to them. An animal that needs to be sedated, muzzled, and shoved into a room to "think about what he's done."

More like what he didn't do. His tackles don't even hurt all that much with him being as scrawny as he is.

But none of that is what's confusing you.

Didn't Rose say that the hippo- whatever-you-call-it would signal the brain to reject his meds? And that would "render it useless?" If that's the case then what's with all this start and stop? Then again, she did say that is was a new solution and he was probably just a test monkey or something. How humane of them. They probably didn't even bother testing it on monkeys before him.

It makes your brain hurt, and you're not the one fighting off some foreign drug. Trying to shove away those thoughts, your mind wanders to other matters. You find yourself thinking about the look on his face every single time he "recognizes" you. It's very easy to recall and you can play it like a snapshot slideshow in your mind. Every little switch of expression is already burned into your memory.

First his face is blank. He just stares at you for a few seconds, without any emotion or inkling of recognition. And every time, it would get your hopes up that maybe the medication finally worked.

Then all of a sudden, his eyes would light up and his body would convulse as though he'd been electrocuted. He would practically jump out of his own skin trying to get to you, Niagara Falls spilling out of his eyes and with the most contradictory grin splitting his face in half. Completely off the charts happy just to see you.

But once you were pinned to the ground from his tackle, he'd be rough-handedly dragged off. His face would morph and twist out of proportion, into a look of physical pain and absolute horror. Like "holy shit the world is ending let go of me before I explode into a puddle of pathetic crying." He'd probably say something along those lines if the scream echoing from his throat wasn't already occupying his mouth.

You shake your head, trying to clear it of those images. No sense in remembering his reaction now, seeing as you're about to see it happen. Again. For the fourth time.

_Asshole._

You look up as a long, tired creak breaks the silence in the hallway. The door to John's room is slowly pushed open and a familiar figure steps halfway through the door jamb. However, while the form is familiar, you can't very well say she's happy to see you.

In fact, the temperature of the corridor drops at least ten degrees lower in her presence, and she hasn't even looked at you yet. By the time her gaze finds your hunched sitting position on the floor, you've come to understand exactly what frozen amethysts look like. Rose doesn't say a word as she lets you draw your own conclusion of the situation, and turns on her heel. The door is left wide open in her departure.

"Shit," Is all you can think of to mutter as you shove yourself up from the wall. Your legs have fallen asleep from being in the same position for about half an hour, but you ignore the pins and needles in your toes, and step through the doorway.

* * *

><p>Your name is Kanaya Maryam and being confined to a small room until lights-out is the very last item on your to-do list.<p>

Unfortunately however, that particular action has been forced upon you by the hospital's staff. You -and the rest of the volunteers for the trial- were sent to your temporary rooms after a quick dinner and pep talk from Kankri -which hadn't actually been short at all.

And all the while, you were determinedly badgering and questioning anyone within earshot as to why you were not permitted to see your friend. The blatant disregard to your inquiries of Karkat's whereabouts left you in a sour mood indeed.

You're just glad you're rooming with Aradia.

"Kanaya, please sit down. You might wear a ditch into the ground if you keep pacing like that." Neither Aradia nor you had bothered to change out of working scrubs directly after dinner, but she was the one who'd decided to settle down for a bit. Her orange hair is loose about her shoulders as she lays on the bottom bunk of your room, flipping through the packet of patient profiles.

"I cannot Aradia. What would happen if they were to throw Karkat out? Or place charges against him for assaulting a patient?" Your voice is only slightly higher than your everyday tone, and only close friends like Aradia can tell how truly upset you are.

"For one, even if they decide to kick him out, they would have to make sure he had a ride first. Aka, us. So we'd be one of the first to know it. And second, I doubt that Karkat assaulted anybody. We only saw the very last part of whatever was happening between him and that patient." Aradia doesn't even look up as she speaks, her brown eyes skimming pages with minimal interest. While your freak outs are few and far between, Aradia knows that the only way to calm you down is to talk it over with reasoning.

You press your lips into a thin line, drawing to a halt in the center of the room and taking the time to look around and set your thoughts straight. Your and Aradia's living quarters were small and had very little to its name- a tall shelf, a bunk bed for two, and a pocket-sized desk with a swivel chair.

Aradia glances up at your silence, an inquiring eyebrow arched on her forehead. "What?"

"I merely have a bad feeling." You reply after a moment, quite unsure of what to say yourself. You've never liked using abstract concepts to describe occurrences, but you'll have to make an exception this time around. You can't get the whole cafeteria scene out of your head, but you try to push it down anyway.

"Maybe it's the microwave pizza they gave us for dinner." Aradia sits up, placing the packet half open in her lap and giving you an easy-going grin. She's trying to cheer you up and you can't help but smile back.

"I suppose sleeping on it wouldn't hurt." You amend your earlier opposition, but can't help adding, "They wouldn't kick him out this late would they?" A note of worry tinges your question, and your brow furrows.

"No, I honestly doubt it." Aradia glances at the silver watch on her wrist, one she always has on in a habit of needing to know the time. Its white face reads a few seconds after nine. "Let's just change and go to bed. And when we wake up and Karkat's fine I get to say told you so. Deal?" She waggles her eyebrows at you, making a small giggle push past your lips.

"Deal." You find it a bit awkward using a slang word in order to seal your agreement, but smile nonetheless.

The both of you quickly get changed and make meaningless small talk about the patients, the building, and how funny it is to watch The Kanaya Maryam crawl inelegantly into the top bunk.

You're just glad you're rooming with Aradia.

* * *

><p>Your name is again Karkat Vantas around the same time, or a little bit before Aradia and Kanaya are sent to their rooms.<p>

You've just walked into John's room to a scene a little bit different from the last few times you'd stepped into.

Somehow, they'd brought a pair of chairs into the room without your knowing. Probably through a side door you hadn't noted before, seeing as you were always distracted by the fuckass in the room instead. You soon notice that said fuckass is currently sitting in one of the chairs with his back to you, and it wasn't until then that you realized how different the two chairs were.

One of them, currently empty, was completely normal. It was a simple wooden chair with arms and four legs. The second, however, had "decorative" plates of metal visible in the back. A sinking feeling in your gut had you thinking about what they were actually used for in the front.

You step quietly around the side to where John sits in the chair, ignoring the silent tension of the room and the cold stares of people in lab coats standing next to the walls. They don't matter right now, you just want to get this over with.

When you look from the front, the stark difference between the other rounds and this go-at-it is blatantly obvious. Except for his ever-present straight jacket, they'd never restrained him so much before.

Each metal plate seen from behind had a corresponding cuff that wraps around a different part of John's body. There were two thin ones for his ankles, another two identical ones for his wrists and a third pair that were much larger, holding down his thighs. They'd even taken off his jacket in order to confine him like that.

For some reason, the sight of the contraption makes your blood burn. You plop down unceremoniously into the empty chair across from John and take in his expression- which is more or less void of emotion. The only deviance from his expression during the past tries is that his gaze is staring past you into oblivion, with a weird, dreamy smile floating across the lower half of his face. And you mean that kind of literally. Every few seconds his mouth would twitch and he would shift his lips around, but it always came back to the same jelly-bean smile of oblivious blissfulness.

You start to feel a bit awkward. More seconds tick by and you just sit and watch his body weight shift from side to side in a dance he only knows. One that's really slow, distant and kind of creepy. You're uncertain of what exactly you're supposed to be doing right now...

Slowly, his far-away gaze focuses back in, pupils retracting, eyelids raising from their stoner-like position, and his blue hues becoming sharper. Just when you think he's finally looking at you, the skin of his eyes pulls together and he starts squinting.

_Does... He need glasses or something?_

The millionth second of quiet passes before he opens his mouth to speak.

"... H... i..."

It almost inflicts pain on you to hear his voice. It's so raspy and coarse. You can practically feel the razor-like grate against his throat as he tries to get the syllables out. It's no wonder though if you think about what he's been doing all this time. People tend to damage their vocal chords when they scream for hours on end.

At first you don't reply. You're still waiting for him to recognize who you are and freak out, strain to get to you from his chair, and ultimately be restrained again. But he stays still in his chair, only the shift of his weight and the rise and fall of his chest suggesting his being alive at all. He looks at you, almost expectantly.

"Hi." You want to cringe at the volume of your own voice. Even though you're bordering on a whisper, the silence of the room and the breathy quiet of John's own makes yours sound like a roar. Again, you lean back in the chair with your back uncomfortably tense, waiting for your voice to set something off in his brain.

But there's still no violent reaction, much to your confusion. Instead, the floaty smile on his lips merely widens at your reply and stills, as though what you'd said had grounded him. John levels his gaze at you, opening his mouth to speak again. You flinch involuntarily.

"... H... i... Kar... kat..."

...

_Wait..._

_What?!_

"You know who I am?" You hear yourself spluttering out in astonishment. But as soon as the words are out of your mouth, you snap your jaw shut. Probably not a good idea to rile him up in any way shape or form. But seriously, what?!

The barely-there vertical motion of his head confirms your question and a stone lodges itself somewhere between your small and large intestine.

_Does that mean the medication didn't work? Is that why Rose was so pissed off at me? How come he's restrained so heavily of they knew he wouldn't freak out at my presence? Did they even know? Did Rose do it on purpose? Why is he all of a sudden retaining his memory? What-_

"D-Do..." The sharp sound of John clearing his throat jolts you out of your thoughts just in time for you to see him grimace minutely at his own voice. You want to tell him to stop talking, but can't bring yourself to interrupt him as he painfully continues. "Re... mem... ber... m... e?"

Your voice gets clogged in your throat. His own is so hopeful, so longing it's tangible in the air between you. Like he's willing you to remember what he remembers, even if you know the memories aren't real. You find yourself wanting to lie. You want to tell him that yes, you do remember him and there's nothing to be afraid or worried about. Everything's going to be okay.

But you can't. John doesn't deserve to be lied to. You can't lead him on like that only to crush him later if he finds out that you lied. You know from experience that you're really shitty at hiding things. Even so, the word feels like bile at the base of your tongue as you hear yourself say, "No."

You watch his face fall. His eyes dim, and his shoulders slump. It would melt the coldest of hearts just to sit and watch the pathetic form crumble, like you are right now. But before you can find the right words to say in hopes of comforting him, his sapphire gaze meets your reddish-brown. His little smile floats its way back onto his face, and he leans back in the death trap seat of his.

It's written all over his disappointed, but understanding expression. He knew you were going to say that anyway.

You hold each other's gazes for the longest time, but you soon realize that his eyelids are drifting closer and closer to each other. Soon only half his pupil is still visible from between his eyelashes. Even though you know the danger has passed, and that he's not going to be able to attack you either way, you don't let your body relax until they've fallen all the way shut.

His lips part a second later, as though to counteract that action and you listen to his quiet breathing for a few seconds, the sound almost lulling you into a sense of security. But just when you thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice makes your legs go numb.

"... I... miss... ed... y... ou..."

* * *

><p>Your name is Rose Lalonde.<p>

And you cannot believe how angry you are right now.

_Weeks. Weeks of research went into that serum. That does not even take into account the additional months of testing it took to combine the chemicals with a sedative. It was so close. So near to the edge. On the brink of a breakthrough to finally get to the center of who the hell John Egbert really is, where he'd come from and why-_

You force yourself to take a deep breath, closing your eyes and reluctantly releasing the death grip you have on your clipboard. It's hard, but you watch the boys' exchange from the sidelines, merely listening to John's failing voice and Karkat's lack of intellectuality with one-worded answers.

You had honestly thought the sedative would steel itself into John's brain synapses. After so many tries of stop and go, maybe and not, remembering and forgetting, you had predicted that within a few hours, the medication would take over completely.

It had had the opposite effect.

After the third go-around, John had been a mess as usual. You ordered Karkat out and John restrained, as you had twice before. Using the usual methods of quiet talking, gentle touches, and well-timed movements, you brought John down to a state of calm. At which point, in both occurrences previous, he had forgotten about Karkat completely. Even Karkat's name wouldn't and couldn't ring a bell in his mind.

But not that third time. John still remembered. He let out little mewls and groans, only putting more stress on his vocal chords and making his voice low and almost unintelligible. John almost had a seizure when you asked about Karkat, screaming and clawing at anyone within reach. That's why you had to bind John in the chair Dirk had dragged in. It wasn't until you had to promise John a conversation with Karkat that you were forced to accept that the sedative had failed.

"Rose." Karkat's voice brings you back to the present, and you look up from your spot in the corner of the room. All eyes turned to you, or have been turned to you as you come to realize that John's sleeping. It would have been cute -if not for the current circumstances.

You give a curt nod to Dirk and Feferi, the only other keepers in the room and they move forward to start unhooking John from his chair. Karkat slowly stands, watching the process of clicking and unclamping as they work. It takes him a moment to notice your withering stare, and he wilts like a wheat stalk when he does.

Slouching and dragging his feet, he plods over to you, expecting a lecture or berating you're sure. You almost want to humor his fears and shove another textbook down his throat, just so he knows exactly how much damage he's done to your research and efforts. But instead, you swallow the lesson and open the door wide for him to walk through.

Surprise is evident on his face at your sudden congeniality and he does an abrupt half-hace once through the doorway. Karkat's mouth opens to speak, but he snaps it shut in better forethought. Oh how you would like to make a sarcastic comment about him being a good boy. But again, you restrain yourself.

"You're to go to your temporary room and sleep for the night." You tell him, controlling your voice so that it seems almost bland.

"And if I don't know how to get there?" Karkat questions, his voice edged with irritation. It's enough to make your jaw tighten involuntarily and solidify your next action.

"How unfortunate."

And then you shut the door in his face.

* * *

><p>AN:

Hi. It's been a while.

I honestly wasn't going to continue writing this. I had problems going on, school and family and all of the above and the story itself kind of dead-ended with a lot of continuity and plot problems. Basically, I didn't like the way it was going and hadn't thought much past where it was because of it.

But I've decided to take the story up again, with a lot of the latter material scrapped. I'm sorry if that's confusing and frustrating but it's the only way I can work the fic back onto grounds I like and want to continue writing. The chapters that were deleted will probably pop back up later, seeing as my original plan did include the plot within those paragraphs, however it seemed too rushed to me and I want more material about John and Karkat before we jump from the frying pan into the fire. For those of you who had read those chapters, just consider it freebie spoilers because you're the VIPs xD

Not gonna commit to an update schedule but I'm inspired to write this story again so hopefully you all won't have to wait half a year for a new chapter. So far I've gone back and edited the heck out of the pervious chapters to correct grammar and spelling and also to get back into the groove of the tone, and as soon as this is posted, I'll be working on the chapter to follow. Some new stuff finally.

Lastly, I just want to say thank you to a guest reviewer, HopelessWanderer, who's email alert about their review is what set me thinking about this fic again in the first place. I hope I can still live up to the standard you've set for me xD

See you guys in the next update.


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